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Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not
And why so?
1 Gent. He that hath miss'd the princess, is a
Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her,
Endows a man but he.
You speak him far. 2
1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together, rather than unfold
His measure duly. ›
What's his name, and birth?
1. Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: His
Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour,
Died with their swords in hand; for which their
(Then old and fond of issue,) took such sorrow, That he quit being; and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd
2 i. e. You praise him extensively.
3 My praise, however extensive, is within his merit. The father of Cymbeline.
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe
I honour him
But, 'pray you, tell me,
2 Gent. Even out of your report. Is she sole child to the king?
1 Gent. His only child. He had two sons, (if this be worth your hearing, Mark it,) the eldest of them at three years old, I'the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stolen: and to this hour, no guess in knowledge
Which way they went.
How long is this ago?
1 Gent. Some twenty years.
2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con
So slackly guarded! And the search so slow,
Howsoe'er 'tis strange,
Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at,
5 Formed their manners.
I do well believe you.
1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the
queen, and princess.
Enter the Queen, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN. Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not find me, daughter,
After the slander of most step-mothers,
Evil-eyed unto you: you are my prisoner, but
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience
I will from hence to-day.
Please your highness,
You know the peril :·
I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
The pangs of barr'd affections: though the king
Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing, (Always reserv'd my holy duty,) what
His rage can do on me: You must be gone;
But that there is this jewel in the world,
That I may see again.
My queen! my mistress! O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man! I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth. My residence in Rome at one Philario's ; Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter: thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall.
Be brief, I pray you:
If the king come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure:- Yet I'll move
To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu !
Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
When Imogen is dead.
Post. How how! another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up 6 my embracements from a next With bonds of death! Remain thou here
6 Close up.
[Putting on the Ring.
While sense can keep it on! And sweetest,
As I my poor self did exchange for you,
Upon this fairest prisoner.
[Putting a Bracelet on her Arm. O, the gods!
When shall we see again?
Enter CYMBELINE and Lords.
Alack, the king!
Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my
If, after this command, thou fraught the court
Thou art poison to my blood.
The gods protect you!
And bless the good remainders of the court!
I am gone.
There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.
O disloyal thing,
That should'st repair my youth; thou heapest
I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation: I Am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare 9 Subdues all pangs, all fears.
Past grace? obedience ? Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past
8 Fill. 9 A more exquisite feeling.